Tag: culture

St. Paddy’s in South America

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Okay, my blog updates are becoming few and far between and I promise I’ll change that. I’ve been working pretty long days (the usual) but my weekends are becoming more and more jam-packed with fun things instead of sitting in my bedroom blogging about random observations, so… forgive me.

Anyway, this year was my first St. Paddy’s in South America. It was my fifth St. Patrick’s Day in a row that I’ve been in a different city.
Here’s a breakdown:
2007 – NYC
2008 – Austin
2009 – Paris
2010 – Las Vegas
2011 – Mendoza

Let’s rank these now from most fun to least fun experience:
1. NYC
2. Austin
3. Mendoza (can’t decide whether it’s better or not as good as Austin)
4. Paris
5. Vegas (we were out really late the night before and none of us were in the mood to party)

So, as you can see, Mendoza St. Patrick’s day is pretty legit. Here’s why. There is one Irish pub here. One. And it’s called Believe Irish Pub.  However, since it’s the only one, you can say “the Irish pub”when you get in a cab, and everyone knows where you’re going. It’s on Av. Colón and it’s the place to be in Mendoza for St. Patrick’s.

The night featured some random guys playing the tin flute and other traditional instruments, but instead of being dressed like leprechauns or something, they were dressed like medieval serfs in brown and drab colors. They had on weird hats. And it was just strange.

No Guinness for me this year, because they only come in small bottles here. Instead we drank Stella Artois and Andes Porter (a Guinness substitute at best) because they come in the liter-size bottles and the bar was so crowded, we ordered 4 or 5 liters at a time.

The turnout was amazing – it seemed like every expat in Mendoza was there – plus any Mendocino ready to party. I’ll post some pics in a few days of the crowd and you’ll see. The normal size patio in front spilled over to the front of the shops on either side, and we took over the street in front so that one full lane of traffic was blocked by people standing around.

While there was no music outside other than Peter pan and friends, it was a great night out. They could do with some satellite bars for the occasion, but all in all, a solid experience.
Erin go bragh!

Argentine bachelorette parties & weddings

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So, I was lucky enough to already be able to attend an Argentine wedding and bachelorette party (the bachelorette was last weekend and the wedding was last night) since I got here a month ago.  The bride is a coworker/new friend of mine from the States, and the groom is an Argentine.

The bachelorette was pretty much the same as an American one, minus all the penis paraphernalia, veils, sashes, etc. However, in our night out on Arístedes (the main street for restaurants and bars in Mendoza), we were treated to a spectacle that they don’t have in the states: the humiliation of a bachelor at his bachelor party.

This is achieved by putting the lucky bachelor in the back of a pickup truck, stripping him down either naked or putting him in an equally offensive man-thong and driving him down the busiest street in Mendoza at night, honking the horn, playing music, and yelling. I’ve heard that sometimes they stick things in the guy’s um… well… you know. Either way, it’s simultaneously hilarious and appalling.

Weddings here are something else. There’s 2 guestlists: one for the dinner and church and then one for the party, or “casimiento”.  The party STARTS at 11:30pm and often goes till 8am the next day. Unfortunately, I’m lame and only lasted till a little after 3am, but it was fantastic.

My personal saga with Argentine Bureaucracy

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Ok, sorry I haven’t posted in a while. Last weekend was a bit of a whirlwind for me, and I’m going to tell you why, in 3 consecutive posts.

The first reason is last Friday was extremely busy for me. Why, you ask? Well, I’ll tell you.

Picture yourself walking from point A (your house) past point C (your office)  to point B (the offices of an extremely bureaucratic country that make the DMV look like a vacation). Got it? Yeah, the point order doesn’t make sense. Whatever. Charlie Sheen wouldn’t care.

Then have the nice, annoyingly goodlooking man who works the desk and hands out ticket numbers at point B tell you that your documentation is wrong, and you need this super special notarized paper in your packet.
I say “No, we have done this 100+ times before, we never needed that. I don’t think we need it. Or if we do, the information should be here in this packet” (which was notarized and certified copies).
He says “No, sorry, you need it.”
After unsuccessfully trying to convince him that I had the right papers, I called my boss/friend’s cell at 8 in the morning to tell her we needed something else. I start walking back to the office (point C) to go search for this magical paper.

The score: Bureaucracy: 1,  Me:0

I get the magical paper I think he is telling me I need. I walk from point C to point B (we are talking 10 blocks or so) – my old friend is at the desk. I approach.
I gingerly hand him my papers, and say, “I think I have them now. Can you check?” . He glances at my feeble attempt to produce the magical paper.
“Nay,” says he.  “You shall not pass go.”
Then he asks me for my passport. The thing I’m there for is for a client – not for me. I try to explain this. He goes “Ohhhhh, I thought it was for you.” Me “No, my name is not (insert man’s name here.)” Him: “Oh I misunderstood. But you still have the wrong document. I’m sorry.”
Me: “Are you SERIOUS? So I’m missing only this one thing? You swear? That’s the ONLY thing I need, everything else is okay? Because I’m walking a LOT today (and I’m fucking tired of your shit).”
Him: Yes yes I am sorry, that is all you need.
Me: I’ll play your game, you rogue. I’ll be back. Again.

Part of that conversation may or may not have been part of an imaginary dramatic reenactment going on in my head on the walk back to Point C.

The Score: Bureaucracy: 2, Me : 0

And so, I walk back to Point C on a mission.  Get back to Point C – people are in the office now. I get backup for what I need. I am told that what I needed (this magical paper) was IN MY PACKET THE ENTIRE TIME.  Hot annoyingly-polite douchebag just didn’t look closely enough. So what do we do? We highlight the damn lines he needs to read. Then I bring reinforcements. 2 of us then parade from Point C to Point B, on a fucking mission.

My colleague is a native Spanish speaker, and ready to raise hell. I’m pretty excited. This time it’s gonna be ON.

My new boyfriend is no longer at the number counter. It’s now the Big Boss Man. Big Boss Man knows my colleague, barely glances at my papers, and gives me a number, no questions asked. HA – you’re going down, Argentine bureaucrats.

However, just before our number is called, we realize a terrible thing. I get a pit in my stomach. I break out in a cold sweat. We didn’t have the forms with us anymore – they were left in our office at point C when I went back the last time. Hijo de puta! I make a game-time decision. It’s time for me to get my ass back to Point C and get those goddamn papers. I’m NOT doing this again on Monday.

The Score: Bureaucracy: 3, Me: 0

I go into my “This is what I would do if I was on the goddamn Amazing Race” mode. It’s 10 blocks. I’m not a runner. I’m also in business casual attire. It’s time to get a taxi.

Little did I know that all the one-way streets in this city, plus midday traffic and rabid Mendocino shoppers would turn my 10-block trip from a fairly easy endeavor into a “Sorry, you’re the last team to arrive” situation.

The driver didn’t even want to drive me. I had to convince him that I had to get there fast, so he had to take me. Into the cab I went. We circled 6 blocks out of the way. We stopped for bitches with strollers, several old people hobbled in front of our car, and I started wishing he would just take out a bike or two. 10 minutes later, which felt like an eternity, we arrive at Point C. I am 10 pesos poorer, and running out of time.

I run in, get the forms, and run out. Realize I look like an idiot half jogging down the street and settle on a powerwalk. I call my colleague at the offices – she says we’re fine. Finally, I arrive back at point B, sweaty and panting, yet triumphant.

I brandish my magic paper. It’s TOTALLY on now, bitches.  We spend approximately 3 minutes at the window. I get my stamp and ID #. It’s over. It is now 12:30pm. I began this journey at 7:45am.

The final score: Bureaucracy: 3, Me: One happy gringa.

Will you be my Valentine Asador?

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Started this week off right with a Valentine’s day asado after work. However, this was after my “novio”(BF) sent me a ton of pink lilies to my office. Turns out, he was able to order them online, without speaking Spanish, and have them delivered in Mendoza. I was über impressed. 

The funny part is one of our CEO’s came in to tell me on Tuesday (the day after V-day, for those of you following) that my flowers had made me the subject of some hot gossip; How does the girl who’s been in the country for a little over a week get flowers for Valentine’s Day already? She must work fast!

I’m still impressed with my novio. Good boy.

The asado was fantastic, and I got to meet new people – a couple who were also expats. And it helps that the other guests at a party are chefs, because dang, the guy can make a MEAN steak.  We drank 5 bottles of wine between 3 people and it was an amazing night.

You may have noticed or became jealous of my usage and correct spelling of über earlier. I’m pretty impressed with myself that I’ve learned the international keyboard setting on my Mac actually has a function. Now I can write emails with to all the “Señors”, asking for the “sustitución”, and when they say “sí “, I can reply “Está bien”. Or something. Very exciting.

(not so) Lazy Weekend

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Yesterday I tried in vain to find a pair of cute sandals. This is mainly motivated by the fact that I realized I only have my purple Havaianas here with me, which are my only summer footwear. The women here wear the cutest sandals, so I thought to myself “Hey, let’s get me a pair of those.”

Turns out, it’s not that easy. First of all, shoe stores here are seriously intimidating. I realize it was Saturday, but all the stores along Av. Las Heras were packed (although that’s not really the place to be looking for shoes), but so were the stores along Av. San Martin and the Pietonal (pedestrianized shopping street w/ cafes). But the crowd wasn’t really the problem. The problem is that you LOOK IN THE STORE WINDOW TO PICK OUT YOUR SHOES.  Like, you need to know what you want before you even go into the store to ask for your size. Do you even realize how difficult that is for someone who barely speaks Spanish? I can basically say “The black ones” or “the brown ones”, or even “the white sandals”, but that’s as far as it goes. Forget people asking me if I needed help. I just froze and mumbled and walked away.

Shoe shopping fail. After walking and searching in vain for 4 miles, I gave up.

Note to self: Do NOT drink entire 1L bottle of Andes beer with lunch by myself. If so, siesta is necessary.

However, last night I went to the Casino at the Park Hyatt. FINALLY, something I could do without speaking Spanish! Even the slot machines were in English – especially my ol’ reliable Star Trek machine. Don’t act like you don’t know the one. I ended up playing various games for around 4 hours before I headed home 350 pesos poorer, which is about, oh, US$85. This is after hours of blackjack, roulette, and slots. I had a good time by myself, so I think it was worth it.

This morning I took a nice stroll (and by stroll I mean a long walk that probably covered a couple miles) down to what I thought would be a nice little breakfast in an Irish pub on Av. Colon. However, said pub was not open when I finally arrived there 30 minutes later. Le sigh. So I made the best of it and went to the nearby Plaza Espana, took some photos and enjoyed the scenery. It’s this amazing little plaza with tons of painted tiles everywhere, and Spain-themed, of course. I’ve heard that there used to be tons of artists who sold their wares and did their art-ing in the Plaza, but they’ve since relocated.

Ended up eating breakfast, or as they call it here ironically “Brunch” at a little corner cafe called La Belle Epoque. The Brunch #3 was coffee, orange juice, 4 pieces of toast with cream cheese and preserves. To my happy surprise, the orange juice was fresh-squeezed, probably on-site. The cream cheese was freshly made, and the preserves were ah-mazing. Plus, the coffee was really espresso with milk. All this for US $4.

A few random comments:
I really need to learn how to use this Argentine cell phone. I seriously think I just texted Egypt.
Dreadlock mullets are sort of an epidemic here. They are everywhere. And they are just as gross as you can imagine.
They give out free samples of mixed cocktails at the supermarket. I was in Carrefour earlier today, doing a little Sunday grocery shopping, and there was a temporary stand set up where this nice young man was mixing Gancia cocktails and handing them out like candy. 
Gancia cocktail: Gancia (an italian liqueur, I believe) and Sprite. Tastes like just Sprite. 
Directions: Enjoy while shopping.